


Choices Made And Those Not Taken

by Trismegistus (Lebateleur)



Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Light Angst, Mistakes, Rasaad is clueless, Vendettas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23875810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lebateleur/pseuds/Trismegistus
Summary: Rasaad's 180 at the end of Siege of Dragonspear struck me as out of keeping with everything that had passed between him and Charname up to that point. This is how I think that interaction might plausibly have taken place.
Relationships: Charname/Rasaad yn Bashir
Kudos: 10





	Choices Made And Those Not Taken

The cell was small, and dark, and located at the end of a long corridor. By order of the dukes, two guards, armed and in full plate, were stationed outside it day and night. There were no other prisoners. 

The oaken doors to the corridor were so heavy that it took two men to open them, and they ground and shrieked against the flagstones so that she knew aforetime whenever someone was admitted to see her. At first, she had gone to stand by the bars whenever she heard the sound, certain that it would be him—alone or perhaps with Imoen, Jaheira, the others, at his side. Corwin had come once, shortly after she was first imprisoned, but alone and only to remonstrate. Otherwise, she saw no one save the guards and the warden, who was permitted to enter twice each day with a tray of bread, dried meat, and water. She spent the hours in prayer or meditation, or practicing her martial forms to loosen stiff limbs and hold anxiety at bay. Increasingly, she slept.

“The woman I know would never have done this,” Rasaad had said, that morning in Dragonspear as a score of those who'd fought and celebrated beside her not a day before gazed down at her and Skie’s bloodied corpse, condemnation already hardening upon their faces. She clutched at those words as though they were a rope cast down to one trapped at the bottom of a well, though she knew there was little hope of scaling its walls. Rasaad did not speak carelessly; he knew she was innocent, and so he would surely have come to her already were he able.

Thus, she only half attended to the sound as the doors ground open again. And yet, the footfalls that accompanied those of the guards were familiar; she had only ever known one person to tread so lightly. 

She rushed to the front of the cell, her fingers wrapping around the iron bars. Her eyes watered in the light that spilled in from the corridor and the sudden flare of the torches in their sconces, but even still, there was no mistaking what she saw. He had come at last. 

She knew the smile on her face was stupid, sloppy, unbecoming of a prisoner accused of murder. They were surrounded by guards and she should have been embarrassed to let any but him see it, but she found she did not care. She had been, she saw now, unbearably lonely and afraid. But now, she thought, she need not be any longer.

He stepped into the room and stopped, several paces from her cell.

“Rasaad,” she said at last, and had to stop at what she heard in her voice. “Don’t look at me like that.” Now, as the first flood of relief abated, her mind took note of what she had initially failed to perceive: his silence, how he had yet to close the distance between them, how there was no gladness in his eyes as he looked at her, only hardness. 

How, she thought, could this be happening? Aloud she said, “You can’t believe I killed that girl,” and was able to keep her voice from quavering.

“I do not,” he said. “But what I believe matters little.”

“It does matter,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “It means everything to me.”

He looked stricken, then, but only for an instant. His gaze flickered away, and when he raised it to hers once more she saw that whatever he had been about to say had died on his tongue. “I told you, when we met on the Sword Coast Way, that darkness swirled around me...that I would have need of you before long.” 

Her fingers relaxed and tightened again around the bars. “I remember,” she said. “And whatever it is—I will stand beside you, I will—”

“You will what?” he demanded, emotion showing for the first time through the cracks in his composure. “Tell me, what is it that you will do, while you are locked away in here?”

“This isn’t—I’ll get out, I’ll find a way, and then—” she began, but he was already shaking his head.

“I cannot wait for you to ‘find a way,’ not now, not when he—”

“But—wait for what? Rasaad, what has happened? Tell me.” She pressed against the grate, willing him to hear her, to confide in her as he had so often before. And in that moment, she knew. “Wait. ‘When he…’ You mean, Alorgoth has—” 

“Do not say his name!” One of the guards flinched; the words rang loud in the enclosed space. Rasaad glanced at him and then mastered himself, drew a deep breath, continued. “Not in this place.” He inhaled again, steadier this time, the lines of his face set and grim. 

“I told you once that I was grasping at shadows. At last, I have caught hold of them.” She shook her head, but he continued as though he had not seen. “I have caught hold of them, and I _will not stop_ until I have seen justice done.”

Not even, she thought, for me. She looked at her fingers, pale around the black iron. When she felt herself ready, she met his gaze and said, “Then you should leave—you’ll find no peace here. I’ll not see you suffer on my account.”

Whatever he had expected her to say, it was not this. For a moment, he looked unsure, and she wondered if she should have pressed him harder. But it was already too late—relief and determination were replacing the doubt in his expression, and she could take nothing back now. “If Selûne wills it, we will meet again,” he told her.

“And if she is not willing, I will take what solace I can from the memory of our time together.” And then he turned and walked out of the prison into the city and the world beyond. She heard the doors groan shut behind him.


End file.
